


Come As You Are

by guidingkeys



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guidingkeys/pseuds/guidingkeys
Summary: And once they established that rhythm, it was nothing but smooth sailing.
Relationships: Annie Leonhart & Eren Yeager, Carla Yeager & Eren Yeager, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Eren Yeager
Comments: 14
Kudos: 110





	Come As You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Based on tumblr prompt: "I pretty much live in detention and you’re a straight A student here on your first offense. Wanna add another, and skip detention with me?"
> 
> Semi-modern AU 'cause it takes place in the 90's as opposed to 2020 and a little below. One shot. Tweaked the prompt.

Eren wanted to bang his head on the reception desk.

The main office should not be this  _ suffocating  _ at lunchtime.

There were so many murmurs of conversations going on. Too many scents of delicious foods floating through the thick air. Lots of bodies crowding the space, tipping the scale towards congestion. Most of the people were parents waiting for their turn to speak to Onyankopon, currently on the phone with a request, or Yelena, writing a pass for the office aide students.

Sweat began to dot the back of his neck. He wanted to yank off the pine green blazer and loosen the matching, constricting tie. Why were these uniforms so hideous?

He caught sight of a father leaning against the wall in the tiny-square of a waiting area, jam-packed with more than a dozen parents— _ way _ over the five chairs available. The older man had his glare fixed to his vomit-colored dress shoes; a poster board with a peak of glitter on the inside perched against his thigh.

_ My old man would’ve done that for me _ .

Eren swallowed, shaking the fleeting thought away as quickly as it came.

“Eren?” Principal Zackly peered over Eren’s shoulder. Breathing down his neck like always. “What’s the holdup?”

He meant it kindly. Still.

He crinkled his nose, picking up the receiver reluctantly, and punched in his mother’s number. Eren winced. The surge of adrenaline from earlier began to give way to pinpricks of pain bubbling in his hand. A trip to the nurses’ office might come after this phone call from hell.

Carla picked up on the third ring, ruining the relief as quickly as it came, keys from her keyboard clicking faintly in the background. “Thank you for calling! This is Carla Yeager speaking on behalf of Reeves Deli & Company! How may I help you today?”

He gritted his teeth, flexing his bad hand carefully.  _ Fuck, it stings _ . “Hey, mom.”

It took her approximately one second for his mother to shed her customer service tone. It was creeped him out. “Oh, God. Eren. Please, tell me this is not what I think it is.”

“Is there any possible way you could spare me the lecture?”

“You promised me, Eren,” She reminded, her tone strangely neutral. That was a little scarier than ripping him a new one like he thought she would. “You promised me  _ that  _ was the last time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I  _ know _ ,” Eren said quickly, resting his head on the cold desk, wishing the chill could nullify his aching head and hand. He was so hungry, the abundance of smells doing absolutely nothing for his gurgling stomach. He hadn’t even had a chance to bite into his sandwich before his fist connected with Floch’s stupid-ass face; that crunch of his jaw so sickeningly sweet to his ears. “I’m sorry.”

“I wish I could understand why you’re getting into all these fights. You know, sometimes I got into it with girls when I was your age. But never as much as you—”

“Mom.” He interrupted, lifting his head slowly. “Can you  _ please _ listen to me for two seconds? I swear, this time it was different.”

His mother inhaled sharply. “Uh. I’m not sure who the fuck you think you’re talking to, young man. You better watch your tone before—”

Eren clenched his jaw, eyes sweeping through the room while his mom went off on a tangent he could recite himself. It was a shitty thing to do but he couldn’t listen to the same shit over and over again without going crazy.

He caught Vice-Principal Pixis’ eye before the elderly man ducked into his office. All the other staff seemed busy. Except for one person. Not a staff member but a familiar very office aide who’d waltzed back into the office at the wrong time.

Historia Reiss.

Eren didn’t believe in rumors but he did believe Annie when she said Historia was nothing short of a heinous bitch behind that sweetheart face and under that lithe body. That said, it was a quality Annie respected. One Eren respected too. ‘Bitch’ tended to be thrown around by guys who found girls too assertive and honest with themselves; their default comeback when they no longer had control over the situation. And, of course, that's how a lot of guys saw Historia. Yet, still tried to get in her pants. Why wouldn't they?

She was sky-high at the top of the high school hierarchy. Her father was the mayor of the city. Something like that. He might’ve zoned out when Annie told him. All he knew was that she pranced around with the other, equally rich kids. Way too busy to care about a lone wolf and new kid on the block like him.

Historia Reiss wasn’t a dream worth entertaining.

Eren tore his gaze away, breaking their eye contact. “Mom, can we  _ please  _ save this for later?” He sounded pathetic and  _ begging _ . But, God, this was so fucking embarrassing.

“Eren, do you have any idea how much money I’m spending on this school?” He bit his tongue.  _ Why does everything always fucking come back to money?  _ Eren seethed. “And do you even have the slightest clue how  _ lucky  _ you are that Darius has never suspended you?”

It was a little weird how his mom was on a first-name basis with Principal Zackly, but that wasn't important right now. His grip on the receiver tightened. “If money’s the big issue, you should’ve sent us to a public school.”

“But of course you’re not hearing anything I’m saying!” She sighed in frustration, and Eren imagined his mom pushing back the recliner and staring at the ceiling, willing God to come down and punish him before she did. “Eren, I’m starting to think you pick these fights on purpose. What’re you trying to prove?”

“What makes you think I have anything to prove?”

“Well! I don’t know, you tell me!” He imagined his mom throwing her hands everywhere. She was a character like that. “Ever since we moved to Chicago, you’ve done nothing but get into one fight after another.” She paused. “You know, ever since you’ve been hanging around that girl—”

“ _ Mom _ .” He warned. “ _ Stop  _ bringing Annie into this. Jesus Christ! Do you have any idea how you sound, reprimanding  _ me  _ for hanging out with her and not  _ Mikasa  _ who’s  _ dating _ her?”

“You better watch your tone, young man, and stop bringing Mikasa into this.” She snapped. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to.”

He clamped his mouth, inhaling sharply through his nose. Four-to-four breathing. Hold. Four seconds. Exhale. Four seconds. Hold. Four seconds. Inhale. Four seconds—

“I’m not doing it on purpose.” Eren managed, an edge lining his tone. “I swear, I’m not.”

“Then what is it?” Her voice thawed away to brittle, and damn, if that didn’t break his heart. Hadn’t his mother suffered enough in a year? Hadn’t the men in her life disappointed her enough?

When he couldn't give a proper answer, she continued, “You told me enough was enough, Eren. I’m just so worried. If Northwestern finds out, they could reject you. And all those scholarships could be taken away.”

Eren rolled his eyes. Northwestern was just one school he applied for, the only university within the state. He wanted UF to get back to him. He had his bags packed and ready to go. "Mom, I already told you colleges don’t look into—”

“That’s still no excuse!”

“I’m not saying it is! Just stop worrying about that—that’s my job.”

“Maybe…” She mumbled, hesitant. “Maybe we should seek help, Eren. I can’t take much more of this. I  _ can’t _ . Is this how you're gonna be for the rest of your life? I’m exhausted.”

His jaw nearly fell to the table. “Didn’t you already try that with Dad? Remind me again how that worked out.”

That was such a low blow. He knew it. But Eren couldn’t take it back now that it flew out, creating a life of its own. The anger he’d been trying to quell morphed into a heat he was all too familiar with. This poisonous white heat coursed through his veins, waiting to be drained.

“What’s  _ wrong  _ with you?” She said, so quietly, so shaky. So broken.

Eren didn't have the slightest clue. Eighteen and still clinging to senseless irritation like a damn middle schooler. And just so bored. The absolute deadliest combination.

A burly hand squeezed his shoulder, sensing he was about to say something he'd completely regret later. "That's enough, Eren."

Eren stared at him coolly, at his kind, Santa Claus-like face. “It’s not a good idea to touch me right now, sir.”

Principal Zackly retracted his hand with a sharp nod. “I apologize. But I think it’s time you handed me the phone.”

His body still itched. Eren turned back to the phone and said, “Don’t bother picking me up.”

“Do whatever you want, Eren,” She sniffed. “You’re acting exactly like your father.”

That stung.

Annie's Country Squire idled on the curb of the school driveway.

How this hunk of junk of a Ford was still mobile, Eren didn’t know. Everything worked the way it was supposed to, the A/C unit still blowing cold air, and it somehow got Annie from Point A to Point B without an issue, so Eren never questioned it. Most days.

Her lip curled, eyes on something beyond him. “God. That thing’s absolutely _ hideous _ .”

Eren followed her line of vision, to the bike rack off to the left of the cement stairs. One lone bike chained to the bars. “It’s just a bicycle.”

“But it’s so…” She lowered her sunglasses, squinting her bleary, blue eyes. The scowl etching her mouth deepened. “... _ pink _ . Why the hell is there a kid’s bike at a high school?”

“Maybe a short person rides it?”

Annie flickered that disdainful gaze to him.

Eren suppressed a smirk. “Aren’t you always telling me that the first rule of feminism is to never judge? You wear pink, too, don’t you?”

“Listen,” She flounced back in the driver’s seat, setting her sunglasses back on the bridge of her Roman nose; her nose ring reflecting the sunshine. “It’s eight in the morning and I didn’t have time to make coffee because someone— _ you _ —forgot to fucking tell me about this early morning detention. So I’m allowed to slip up.”

Eren shook his head, unbuckling his seatbelt, and looped the straps of his forest green Eastpak around his arms. His fingers still bothered when he curled them too far, even after icing his hands the last three and a half days. “I keep owing you, Annie.” He said softly.

”You can easily repay me by leaving.” She deadpanned. “You planning on going back home any time soon?”

“Aw. Don’t kick me out just yet!”

“You’re a fucking freeloader, Eren. Barely three days and my cabinets are almost empty.”

He poked the area where her arms should be. Barely awake, all she had time to do was wrap herself in a spare pug-patterned blanket and waddle to her car. She didn’t even bother to brush her hair, put on makeup, or anything. How they made it to school in one piece, Eren wouldn’t question it. “You know you like having me around.”

“Trust me, I don’t— _ stop it! Asshole _ !” She couldn’t scoot to an area that Eren couldn’t reach. Annie kept slapping his fingers away. “I'm still trying to figure out in what world is it correct that you've been over my house before your sister. It's annoying."

Though her eyes were hidden behind brown-tinted frames, he could still make out that pointed stare. It almost made him swallow nervously, struggling for a comeback. He hated being at the end of  _ that _ stare. “Seriously. How long do you plan on staying away from her?”

Eren shrugged, his neck pinching from sleeping on her carpeted floor the last three nights. “I didn’t run.” He muttered. “ _ She’s  _ the one who kicked me out.”

Her brows rose above the frames. “And you’re… what?” Annie paused, letting her question sink into his bowels. “The victim? Are you really expecting some kind of apology? You expect her to welcome you back home with open arms?”

He folded his arms, indignant. “Is that so wrong?”

“Um.” She said like he was dumb. “Not wrong, just stupid—especially with how Mikasa told me how you both reacted.”

Eren slunk into the passenger seat, the passenger seat pushed far back for plenty of legroom. “It’s not my fault.”

“It is.”  _ Why does she gotta be so ruthless,  _ he thought with a deep frown. “Partially yours and your mother’s. There were so many better ways the two of you could’ve handled the situation.”

“So… What? I’m supposed to apologize first?”

“Jesus Christ." She knocked him on the head. " _ Eren! _ ”

“Why do you even care so much?” He deflected, grated by this lecture coming from her. “You know, you’re starting to sound a lot like Mikasa. It’s getting on my nerves.”

“Some of us need to have a thing called: common sense.”

Eren threw his head back on the headrest, slamming his eyes shut. Lectures were something he expected from his mom, from Mikasa. Never Annie. But her brash honesty was something Eren liked and respected. She never sugarcoated anything—much like him.

But he was still pissed. There was so much he wanted to say, his fists curled tightly even though the spikes of pain shot along his bandaged his hand.  _ I’d rather not _ , he thought,  _ for the sake of keeping whatever kind of friendship we have.  _ He knew Annie could handle whatever he dished out but Eren was just so  _ exhausted _ .

Senior year was supposed to be the self-titled Time of His Life.

But on top of being the new kid in a private school, friends weren’t exactly in large supply. People were already pieced together, with their inside jokes and their hangout spots. Eren never really knew how to contribute. But there was Annie—residential ‘bad girl’, who shared a lot of classes with him. Annie had also taken him under her wings, teaching him the ropes of music and songwriting. Maybe she felt sorry for him. Did Mikasa’s girlfriend count as a friend?

He liked to think that if anything ever happened between them, he’d stay friends with her. Who knows.

Annie silently watched all the turmoil play across his face. “Get the apology over with and get the hell out of my house.”

It was Eren’s turn to scoff. “What makes you think she’d listen to anything I say? She hasn’t listened to a word I’ve said this whole year.”

Annie shook her head in disgust, pressing her forehead on the peeling steering wheel with each pause. “You men are your  _ stupid _ inflated egos… Gets in the way of the easiest things… It’s like talking to a fucking brick wall…”

This was his signal to exit before he got sucked into another one of her feminist rants. Not that he usually minded. He liked hearing Annie’s opinions. But not today.

The air wasn’t cold enough to turn his breaths into puffs but enough to garner long sleeves to be comfortable. The summer heat was around the corner, melting the last of the clinging, stubborn spring. Summer was Armin and Mikasa’s favorite season. But that strip of time when winter evolved into spring had always been Eren’s favorite. Something about watching the snow melt away, never to come back for a few months, and see the flowers bloom back to life brought him a sense of peace. No matter how harsh things got a time of serenity would come.

Someday. Just not yet.

“Eren,” Annie called. He hadn’t even heard her roll down the window. Eren leaned down, the sunglasses still blocking Annie’s eyes. “Go home. Like… today. Preferably.”

Eren rolled his eyes. “Thanks for caring.”

Annie flipped him the birdie, speeding off without rolling the window back up and veered out of school grounds.

He shook his head, fumbling with the Discman nestled inside the large pocket of his school blazer. Minding his hair, Eren slipped his headphones on, ascending the steps of Trost Academy, ready to face yet another Saturday detention alone.

A couple of turns down the corridors and a Rage Against the Machine song later, Eren already stood outside the yellow double doors of the library. Never took him long. He could probably do this sleepwalking.

The biggest section was the fiction section, of course towards the back right.  _ Harry Potter  _ was a huge thing happening right now. To his immediate right was the reception desk, and his left was the computer area with vintage, worn-out couches leftover from the ’70s. Eren trudged to the back of the room.

When classrooms were under maintenance, or research projects were given, this was the designated spot. Just two rows each with three science lab tables that fit four people if they squeezed. The rolling chalkboard behind the podium still had yesterday’s assignment in white chalk. Something about the Renaissance and bullet points on Francis I.

_ Armin would love this,  _ he thought fondly.

He took up his regular table—right side, middle row—depositing his Eastpak on top of the desk. After dumping himself in the middle chair, Eren pressed the volume higher on his Discman, letting Nirvana’s “Come as You Are” take him away. Just for the moment.

Sliding his eyes closed, Eren plonked his head on his forearms, the last couple of days creeping on him now that he was finally alone with himself. Annie’s apartment wasn’t big enough for more than two people. Her room was was barely big enough to fit her ex-girlfriend’s drum set. On top of that, Annie  _ snored _ . He’d always been a light sleeper, so he’d gotten his routine three hours of sleep since crashing at her place. And even though Annie wasn’t into guys, the idea of sleeping with her on the bed was off-limits. Not that her old man would get the wrong idea, but…

Fuck. Maybe he was being an inconvenience.

His fingers gripped his hair tight, ready to rip the strands straight from the follicles, the pain of his band hand made him hiss.  _ This is all mom’s fault. _

Eren came to a halt. No. This was Grisha’s fault. For walking out on them.

Grisha was the one that filed for divorce. His mother was heartbroken. Never saw this coming. About a week after dropping off those papers, Grisha dipped, never to be seen, and barely heard from. After that, his mother decided to move them out of Newark to Chicago, where her parents resided.

Never in a million years did Eren ever think his sweet, soft-spoken old man would abandon them like that.

His birthday was the last time they'd heard from him.  _ Wow, can't believe you're eighteen years old already _ , his old man marveled softly, so happy and cooing. And for the sake of his mom and the love he still had for his family, he tried. Eren did try. But the sound of Grisha's voice, after a year of not silence, made a gear inside Eren's gut twist and crank. And so, he  _ might've _ told his old man to fuck off and go to hell. Or show up if he actually cared. Which  _ might've _ prompted a full scale, blowout argument against Carla  _ and _ Mikasa.

So,  _ that  _ ended up being an awesome eighteenth birthday.

Someone kicked his shin. Not hard enough to do damage, just enough to jolt him upright and out of his head.

Historia Reiss stared down at him over her slender nose, arms crossed over her chest. “Hey! I’ve been calling you for the last couple of minutes.”

He blinked, realizing he still had his headphones on. Eren slid them down, letting it rest around his neck. “Sorry.”

Her brow raised, her little smirk turning devious. “Are you  _ crying _ ?”

“Huh?” He pinched the bridge of his runny nose. “No. I’m fine.”

“You  _ sure  _ about that?” Historia bent down, just a little. “You wanna talk about it? I won’t judge. Student Council’s honor.” She straightened, saluting her heart.

“It’s all good.”

“Mhm,” She hummed. “Whatever you say, crybaby.” Historia tossed her curtain of blonde hair over her shoulder, still looking curiously down at him. Like she was trying to pinpoint something. “I’ve seen you around before. Right?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, though it didn’t surprise him that Historia didn’t remember.

As Student Council president, Historia had been the one to show him and Mikasa around on their first day. She didn’t look happy. And, honestly, Eren couldn’t recall the majority of whatever Historia told them—way too distracted by the swish of her khaki skirt brushing the back of her smooth thighs. Hers ended shorter than the mandatory length. Pretty sure it was illegal for her to make a hideous uniform look somewhat decent. And he was also sure the back of his head still held Mikasa’s hand imprint from every time she caught him ogling.

Historia wore the uniform today too; the tie barely tied, shirt down a few buttons and blazer unbuttoned like always. She nodded, fingering the hem of the school shirt with pursed lips. Light makeup.

“So… What was up with that phone call on Wednesday?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes.” She said, blinking owlishly. “That’s why I’m asking.” Historia cocked her head, puzzled by his retort. “Is this how you always talk to people?”

“Yeah. Sometimes.” Eren continued to blurt because he had absolutely no filter. “Especially when people are being particularly annoying.”

Historia paused but didn’t seem offended in the least. Her eyes kind of  _ sparkled _ . “ _ Am _ I annoying you?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll have you know I can be quite vexatious!”

He could almost roll his eyes. “I highly doubt it.”

“Seriously! I’m—” Historia’s amusement fell away, eyes zeroing in on his hand. “Hey, what happened there? It looks really bad.”

Eren tucked it back into his blazer pocket. “It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, tough guy,” She tilted her head, wisps of falling across her shoulder. “It’s from that fight you got into Wednesday, isn’t it?”

“Why’re you asking me if you already know?”

Historia shrugged nonchalantly. “I like to hear things straight from the source. And, hey, is it true that Erwin confiscated your pager during class? Didn’t I tell you they would? It’s been a huge thing on the news lately—only drug dealers use those things.”

“You believe everything on the news?” Historia gave him a smug look. Eren sighed deeply. “Why do you think I have a pager, Historia?”

“I dunno!” She held her palms up, so nonchalant and casual. “That’s why I’m asking you upfront instead of being like everyone else and talking behind your back.”

He almost frowned in approval. Eren tipped his chin to the nice purse attached to her hip. “Why do you have a phone?”

“People talk to me.”

“Well, it’s the same for me.”

She effortlessly dragged out the chair behind her, dropped into it, and tucked her legs to the side. Historia folded her arms across the back of the chair. “So. Who do you talk to?”

“Friends.” Being just Armin. Annie wasn’t into pagers, barely even tolerated house phones. “And emergencies.” Being his mom and Mikasa. And, in a locked section in the back of his mind, he hoped for his dad.

She smirked like she’d caught him in a tangle of lies. Which it wasn’t. “ _ Obviously _ . Who else?”

“That’s it.” He confessed.

Her face fell, unimpressed. “Really? No, like, girlfriends? Partners? Or any other… interests?”

“No, Historia. Nothing else.”

“Huh.” She said, her arm dangling on the back of her chair. “That’s boring. Thought you’d be more interesting.”

Eren shrugged. “I don’t mind being a boring person.”

Whatever that implied.

She might not remember his name, but he could appreciate that she seemed to remember his face.  _ Not like we don’t have fifth-period Algebra II together _ , he still couldn’t help but think. She sat in the back, usually fighting off Reiner Braun’s meaty arm as he tried to sling it across the back of her chair. The guy always thought he was so slick.

Historia blew a raspberry, tufts of her bangs flying up. “It’s kinda crazy that you haven’t gotten expelled. All my brothers and sisters came here but none of them have ever heard of someone getting into so many fights and not getting a higher punishment for it.” She smirked. “You’re one lucky guy, Eren.”

Oh.

So. She  _ did  _ know his name.

Eren looked away. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” He mumbled softly. Not this time.  _ And nothing that Floch didn’t deserve. _

“Right…” She drawled dryly, situating her chin on her forearm, batting her lashes. “’cause only good two-shoes live in Saturday detention.”

“I don’t—” Eren halted, scratching his jawline with a finger. “If that’s the case, what’re  _ you  _ doing here, Historia?”

She almost erupted into a laugh. “Hey, there! Who said anything about  _ me  _ being a goody-two-shoes?”

“Oh, I dunno. Just about the entire school.” Eren rebutted. “I mean, you’re on Student Council. Aren’t you a cheerleader, too?”

Her phone started ringing. She didn’t make a move to answer it, just batted those long black lashes again. “What of it?”

“Only academically inclined students get into Student Council,” He said slowly. “Don’t you have to keep up a certain grade point average and attendance record to stay in?” He vaguely remembered this stuff from Armin. The kid was part of so many extracurricular, Eren had lost count after the Thespian club.

“Eh,” Historia responded, flicking a dismissive wrist. “Doesn’t have anything to do with grades as much as dedication towards the cause—which I’m in short supply of lately. And, when you think about it, it’s the same with sports.” She added, tapping her head. “Haven’t you seen the airheads we have on our football team?”

Historia didn’t let him answer. “Besides that, how someone acts during school doesn’t always reflect how they are outside.”

“Right…” Eren trailed off, rough hand massaging the side of his heated neck. Damn. What was the point he’d been trying to make? Jesus, he sucked at talking to girls.

“And this isn’t my first rodeo, by the way,” She glanced at her manicured nails—that style with the white tips and baby pink beds. Eren thought it was nice but Historia pursed her lips. “It’s just the first time I’ve ever gotten caught. I’ve been getting sloppy lately. Senioritis’ kicking in full force.”

Eren cocked his head, Unexpected. He caught movement in his peripheral. “What’d you do?”

“Well, well!” Hange Zoë, his fourth-period Chemistry teacher, chirped, striding to the podium.

Historia jumped, shivering all over like a cartoon kitten.

Mobilt, Hange’s assistant, wasn’t far behind; a box of heavy-duty equipment cupped in his arms. “Morning,” He mumbled shyly.

“Hey,” Eren greeted back.

Historia didn’t say anything.

Hange beamed, taking them in behind oval framed glasses. “Looks like we have a full house today! Awesome! Congratulations for being on time!”

Historia slowly turned forward, muttering, “I don’t think two people classify as a ‘full house’.”

“Hey, Hange, don’t forget. We can’t be here long,” Mobilt reminded, seconds away from dropping the box. Eren kind of wanted to get up and help him set it down.

“Don’t worry, we don’t,” Hange assured him, patting his shoulder. “We set the timer for ten minutes, I remember. Put the box down for now.”

Mobilt sighed in relief, sliding the box on Historia’s table.

Hange browsed through the podium, searching high and low, flipping through the papers already set. “Let’s see… It should be right  _ here  _ … Ah. Did Levi move it? I told him to stop touching my stuff!”

Eren glanced at the clock planted above the A-C non-fiction shelf, stretching out his wilting legs. Twelve minutes late.  _ Nothing new. _

Historia’s phone started ringing again.

Hange, still searching endlessly, creased at the pitching noise just as Historia hurried to take it out of her purse.

“Historia!” Hange exclaimed. He caught Historia clenching her jaw, back to Hange. “It’s a pleasure to see you outside of class again!”

Historia slammed her phone shut, shoving it inside her purse, and turned back around. “Is it really?”

“Well. Yes.” Hange grinned, teeth gleaming. Feral. “I just saw you at the shopping mall Thursday, and here we’re seeing each other again! I heard your father called you in sick that day—so how utterly ironic was it that I just so happened to bump into you on my way to get some lunch? You certainly didn’t seem sick.”

Historia crossed her arms. “… I was feeling sick in the morning.”

Hange’s smile never left. “Did you end up getting that necklace, Historia?”

Said necklace must be the one she currently tugged. Simple silver. A feather. “Yes. I couldn’t leave without it.”

Eren pressed his lips, holding back a laugh.

“Oh, I’m glad! It does look beautiful on you! Now,” Hange procured an empty box from the under the podium. “If you’ll please fork over your electronics, your detention will begin once I find—”

“You can’t be serious.” Historia blurted.

Oh. Fuck.

He completely forgot about his Discman for a hot second, the music still thumping through the speakers hanging around his neck. How’d he forget? He usually tucked it away before Hange and Mobilt arrived.

Hange didn’t mind the interruption, swishing the box side to side. “Sure am! Ooh, don’t look at me like that, Historia! You’ll get it back by the end of the day!” Hange sighed, hand lodged in reddish-brown hair. “I swear, you kids are getting too attached to these things. I can’t say I blame you guys, though. It’s a great technological advancement, being able to communicate at any given moment of the day—even during  _ my  _ class.”

Eren sighed in defeat, knowing there was no arguing with Hange, and plucked off his earphones, careful of his shaggy hair. He twisted the cable around his good hand and rose.

He paused by Historia’s desk, offering his hand, but she stood abruptly shoving him aside—it was cute to think he’d budge considering how tiny Historia was compared to him—and marched to the podium to toss it in the box herself.

Historia returned to her chair with a huff.

“You sure that’s all?” The two of them shook their heads, slumped in their seats. “No hidden pagers or extra phones I should worry about?” Those amber eyes fixed on Historia in particular.

She shook her head. Eren couldn’t see her face, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out Historia was seething inside, boiling like a teapot left on the stove.

Hange discarded the box at the top of the podium. “Great! Eren already knows this, but the computers are also off-limits. Any use and you’ll be spending another Saturday here. Now,” Hange picked up some papers, straightening them, the sound echoing throughout the room. “I have an assignment I’d like the two of you to reflect on.”

“… A  _ whole  _ Saturday?” Historia reiterated in disbelief. “For using a dumb computer? I hardly think that deserves a harsh punishment.” She peered over her shoulder, eyeing him.

“Wait.” Eren’s mind was in a state of clutter. “ _ Assignment _ ?”

That was new. Hange usually left him alone.

“Hange,” Mobilt tried, tapping his watch-less wrist. “We should get going before the chemicals explode. The timer’s about to run out—”

“A few more seconds, Mobilt, if you would,” Hange said kindly, stopping briefly at the corner of Historia’s desk. Hange slid a few pieces of paper and a blue pen. Some of the pages looked like handouts. The others were regular lined pages. “You heard right, Eren. It’s a behavioral essay. The same kind of essay given to children in grade school.”

“Uh…” Eren started.

Historia’s eyes never left Hange’s back, a lioness stalking her prey. “Is this supposed to be some kind of test?” She finished for him.

“Huh.” A delicate finger tapping the chin. “I never thought of it as. Very easy to follow. A child could do this in their sleep!” Hange deposited the supplies on his desk and briskly scampered back to the podium. “It’s an assignment I want the two of you to think long and hard about. Use these next four hours to reflect.”

Eren spared a glance at the contents. Yep. Handouts and blank sheets of paper.  _ All I wanted was to take a nap _ , he thought miserably, frowning deeply.

Historia hadn’t made a move for them either. Her neat, champagne hair blocked his view, but her arms were still crossed firmly over her chest, one leg draped over the other.  _ Yeah. Still pissed. _

“The instructions are simple,” Hange held up a copy of the papers passed to them, the one that consisted of a list. “There’s a list of topics on this sheet. Find the one—or several—that are most suited as to why you’re in detention today—and before you ask, I can’t give you a hint. It’s for you to decide upon and reflect. That’s also part of the assignment.”

Historia lowered her hand. Eren covered his mouth with his hand.

Hange set the sheet down, picking up the other two. “I shouldn’t have done this, but here, you’ll find examples of what needs to be done. Isn’t that neat?” Hange swished the sheet. “All you two need to do is fill in the blanks with your own experiences and add whatever you think is the best course of action to correct your problems. Easy enough?”

“Yeah. Got it.” Eren affirmed. Simple. Just annoying. And  _ unnecessary _ .

Historia slunk further in her chair until her neck rested comfortably on the back.

“Hange, it’s time.” Mobilt picked up the box. “Let’s go. We can’t afford another failed experiment, otherwise, Zackly will—”

“Just a few last things,” Hange held up a hand to Mobilt, instantly shutting him. “Once you’re finished with your essays, leave them on this podium. Feel free to catch up on any missing homework if you find yourself with any free time. Just remember, no computers. I’ll be by to release you when detention’s over.”

_ Nope _ , Eren thought,  _ Hange’ll be late for that too _ . He always left a sticky note.

“As Eren already knows, exiting the room is permitted for bathroom usage only,” Hange emphasized, gaze firmly planted on Historia. “If you leave school grounds, you’ll be spending another Saturday with me. Is that understood?”

“Yeah,” Eren confirmed, wanting her to be done so he could do this assignment and take a long-awaited nap.

Historia raised her thumb… though, Eren was sure there was a different finger she wanted to hold up.

“Eating is also permitted, so long as you clean up after yourselves.” Hange glanced at the ceiling, pondering. “And… I think that’s about all,” Hange waved. “Ta-ta! See you in four hours!”

Just like that and much to Mobilt’s immediate relief, the two of them were gone.

Historia swiveled in her chair once they were completely out of earshot, jutting a thumb towards their retreating backs. “You know they’re totally boning, right?”

Eren’s brow furrowed. “Uh, no? There just… lab partners. Mobilt’s a teacher’s assistant…”

“Oh, Eren,” She cooed mockingly. “For a guy who could make other guys cry like little bitches, you’re so innocent. It’s cute.”

Eren averted his eyes, heat searing his cheeks and crawling up the back of his neck like fire ants. “I can’t see that ending well… If it’s true.”

“It’s very real, I can assure you,” She said, matter-of-fact. “Hitch says she caught both of them in the Chem labs. Honestly, everyone already knew they were a thing but nobody knew the extent.”

He never knew. Never cared to pay attention. But Hitch’s name rang a bell. Hitch Dreyse. Annie’s aforementioned ex-girlfriend. On-and-off—currently off, since Annie and Mikasa were a thing. “Pretty sure that was a sight to see.” Eren supplied.

Historia grinned. “Hitch said she puked right after finding them. I don't believe her most of the time but she had pictures."

Eren raised a brow. He also knew about Hitch because he always saw her around Historia—when Historia wasn’t hanging around Ymir, that is. Being in the background gave him a lot of time to observe people. “Aren’t you guys friends?”

Historia’s brows rose, an equally disgusted scowl on her lips. “ _ Me _ ? And  _ Hitch _ ? No! Absolutely not! She's a leech.”

Eren nodded, not entirely understanding the concept of popularity. Instead of continuing to make a fool of himself, he picked up one of the papers.

_ Behavioral Topics _ , the cursive title read. As stated, the page was nothing but an entire list of topics to choose from. Cheating/Plagiarism. Improper Use of Technology. Refusal to Follow Instructions. Stealing. Eren raised a brow.  _ Wouldn’t stealing be instant expulsion? Cheating too?  _ This school was too lenient.

And, anyway, most of these topics didn’t pertain to him. Only the very first one. Fighting/Horseplay.

His brow rose, picking up the other paper.  _ And all I have to do is copy this?  _ Easy enough. Completely painless and thoughtless.

He started scribbling the first paragraph on the blank sheets Hange provided.  _ The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can take a nap.  _ He glanced up, at the clock. Fifteen minutes gone by. Eren sighed, scrubbing on his face.  _ Preferably on the couch. _

“... Are you  _ seriously _ doing this shit?”

“Uh.” Eren’s eyes flicked up, meeting Historia’s peeved expression. He never expected Historia to have such a sailor’s mouth. “ _ Yeah _ ? Aren’t  _ you _ ?”

“Oh, my God!” She gasped like she discovered something new. “I never would’ve guessed you were such a  _ nerd _ .”

“…Because I’m doing an assignment we were  _ assigned  _ to do?” Eren blinked, shaking his head. “I guess there are worse things to be called.” His mom could think of hundreds of insults in a split second. He’d heard some new ones Wednesday night.

Historia fingered a few strands of her hair, sighed. Bored. “I mean, what’s the point, Eren? It doesn’t count towards anything. Hange never said we’d get in trouble if we didn’t do it—only if we use the computers and leave school grounds.”

“Sure,” He agreed “But… What’s the point of not doing it? What exactly do we get outta that?”

“… The satisfaction of  _ not  _ doing it and doing something  _ else _ ? Duh.”

Eren looked around, all too familiar with his surroundings, down to the cobweb in the corner of the room. “What else is there to do, Historia? I dunno if you’ve noticed, but we’re kinda stuck here for the next—” He quickly glanced at the clock. Seventeen minutes. “—four-something hours.”

Historia threw her hands up. “I knew that, Captain Obvious!” She laid her head on her forearm draped on the back of the chair again, her hair hanging so loose and right  _ there _ . “But this is making me wish I was at practice instead.”

Eren tilted his head. “Is that why your phone went off?”

“Yeah,” She confirmed, sighing. “Coach couldn’t get Hange to budge about my sentence. And my father was a close cause. He said I deserved it.” Historia made it sound like a prison sentence and Eren had to hold back a laugh. “She told me I should skip it anyway. She’d eventually find a good reason for me. But I thought, ‘it’s just one Saturday—how bad could it be’?”

Eren nodded. “It could be worse.”

Historia went oddly quiet, mulling over something. “Coach says I shouldn’t be missing so much practice. As captain, it reflects badly on the other girls.”

“Why do you keep missing so much of it?”

Historia shrugged. Her eyes still hadn’t returned to him.

Eren chewed on what to say. “Being part of something’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.”

His brows drew together at that dejected tone. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?” Historia murmured, lifting her head, finally looking at him. A certain blankness filmed her eyes that weren’t there before. “Oh! Yeah. It’s just one of those things. It is what it is.”

He was confused. “Uh. What is?”

She leveled him with an even stare like she was challenging him. “Popularity. It’s bullshit. All of it’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, I understand.” He didn’t but maybe she would talk more if he acted like it.

Historia’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No, you don’t.” She smiled ruefully, elaborating, “You wouldn’t think, but being popular is a lot like having a job. Look at how hard Hitch tries. People think it's so easy but it's nothing but work and worries. Work to get in, work to stay in."

He hadn’t been popular in Shiganshina High. He hadn't been an outsider like he was here either. If anything, there was a balance back in Shiganshina High. He had a group. A found family.

Here, he didn't have shit. His parents made sure of that.

“You’re right,” She blinked at his declaration. “It is a bunch of bullshit.”

Historia sort of smiled at that, not showing teeth, just enough of a tug to flash the dent of her dimples. “And I’m a senior now. Which is worse. Everything about high school seems so trivial now that it’s almost over,” Historia swept a hand through her hair. “It’s crazy to think I put in all this effort and spent so much time doing all this  _ stuff  _ I don’t even actually like.”

“That… Uh. Sounds rough.”

She choked back a laugh. “Yeah. A little." Historia shrugged. "I spent way too much time running from who I was. I can't do over my life but I can keep it moving. Start how I want to be when I get to college."

"Where're you going?"

"UIC."

_ In-state _ , he thought.  _ Close to home _ . He wanted to keep asking. Keep her talking. Eren was insanely curious. There were a lot of things he wanted to know about Historia. But he figured that would all come within due time. Maybe.

He wasn’t like his mom and Mikasa with their nosey habits. They never left shit alone—especially  _ his  _ shit. Their burning desire to be part of everything that concerned him left him feeling smothered and suffocated. It was frustrating. Eren hated feeling like he had to run from them, just to get a grasp of fresh air. No one should ever feel like they had to run from their family.

The thought would’ve toppled him over if he’d been standing.

All the things he’d spent a better part of a whole year fighting with his mom about came crashing back to him, tumbling in his brain like dominos falling. Avoiding problems. Burning resentment. Shoving the guilt of not being enough onto someone else. Running.

It slipped through his teeth, rough and harsh. “ _ Fuck _ .”

His mother was exactly right. Eren was acting just like  _ him _ . Repeating his same damn mistakes. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. And it would keep rolling until it rots.

Fucking Annie was right, too. He needed to go home. Like, today.

Historia turning back around to face him, smirking. “What, brain dead already? Took you long enough! I told you this thing’s a huge waste of time.”

“No, it’s…" His mouth tugged into a slight smile. "You helped me realize something. Thanks.”

Historia’s eyes fluttered, a faint pink dusting her cheeks. “Totally and completely lost. But you’re, uh, welcome. I guess?”

They lapsed into another silence, comfortable, and Eren guessed now was as good of a time as ever to start this essay. Years of playing Little League baseball helped hone his ambidextrous ability. He couldn’t write as clearly with his left hand, though, but it was better than chicken-scribble. The only pro to this shitty situation.

He didn’t notice that Historia hadn’t turned around until she said, “Lemme see your hand.”

So much for getting the essay done.

She had her elbow propped on the back of her chair, staring at him with pursed lips. Historia wasn't the type of girl that liked to be kept waiting.

He reached, but she slapped his hand away. “The  _ other  _ one, dummy.”

His mouth twitched, tongue ready to fight back. But this strange look in her blue eyes stopped him.

Gingerly, like holding a newborn for the first time, Historia took his large hand in between her small ones, thumbs delicately kneading his calloused palm.  _ Historia’s so pale compared to me _ , was his first thought. Unblemished, alabaster skin. Sort of like a China doll, but not. She was too rough. The crunch in the center of something that looked otherwise sweet.

Eren hissed when she flexed his fingers.

She gazed at him apologetically. “Sorry.”

He wasn’t a stranger to pain. Emotional. Physical. He'd been part of too many confrontations of all kinds as of late. He had to build up some kind of tolerance. That didn't mean it got to him somedays. This had been bothering him for more than two days.

But he wasn't about to admit that. “No. It’s fine.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “No. It’s clearly  _ not _ fine.”

Abruptly, she shoved the chair back and stormed off, hair and khaki skirt swishing in her wake.

_ Did I say something wrong?  _ He thought dumbly, tilting his head, watching her disappear.

His leg jittered the whole time. Eren kept glancing at the clock, only for seconds to tick by. It was barely even nine.

An eternity later, Historia returned. A Coca-Cola can in one hand, a first aid kit in the other.

She discarded the box on his table, popped herself back in her chair. After cutting the bandages and flicking it away, she pressed the can to his hand. It was freezer burnt. How she got it, he didn’t know, but the relief was immediate and he was grateful.

Eren pressed it down further, chewing on his lip. Historia never moved her hand away, nor wrapped a bandage around it, even though it must be freezing.

“Why’s it like this?” She asked softly, not meeting his eyes.

“The wall didn’t agree with me.”

She shook her head, a faint half-smile at her lips. “What’d the poor wall ever do to you, Eren?”

“It was the first thing in my way after I got into it with my mom.” He admitted, ducking his head, his jaw tight. The cold still settled into his tendons, chilling his bones.

She went quiet for a moment. Too long of a time. “Tell me what happened,” Historia demanded, “‘Cause it sounds  _ really  _ bad when you say it like that.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! Jesus! I’d never hit my mom. Or my family. Or any of my friends.” Eren bit the inside of his cheek. Historia didn’t seem to mind his defensiveness, watching their hands. He exhaled. “I caught Floch groping Mina in the hall.”

She finally looked up. “So you punched him?”

“Guilty.” He admitted. “Mina looked terrified and I just... reacted.”

“Are you guys going out or something?”

“What? No.”

“Oh, my God!” She marveled. “The  _ chivalry! _ ” Eren winced when she pressed the can down in excitement. “Oh! Sorry! But your mom taught you well!”

He flushed, scratching his jaw. “Yeah… She was… kinda proud of me when I heard the whole story… Said I did a good thing. For once. Until she found something else to get mad about."

“As all parents do.” Historia offered, lifting the can off and propping his elbow at an angle. She placed her baby-soft palm right on his and applied force, stretching it back. His heart raced—just a little. “Hurts?”

“No.”

She casually yanked his wrist. “Still nothing?”

“No.” He answered but his brows drew together, curious. “But. Uh. How do you know this stuff?”

She leveled him with a stare. “I’m captain of the cheerleading squad.”

“Right, right.” He clamped his mouth.

“Also, I have older brothers.” She supplied, continuing to prod and pull and poke his hand. “They’ve always been in and out of the hospital growing up. Adrenaline junkies, ya know? Broken legs. Injured knees. Dislocated shoulders. A cracked rib or two. I honestly can’t remember a week when I wasn’t pulled out of school and shoved in a doctor’s office, waiting on results for them.” She cast him another small smile. “I liked it ‘cause it got me out of school. After a while… I started paying attention whenever the nurses worked on them. Started asking them questions.”

She pulled on his fingers one by one. His pinky was fine. There was a slight pain in his ring finger, but not enough to bother. His middle though? Eren kissed his teeth, the pain exploding. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears. His toes curled in his Vans, and he pressed his forehead on the table silently while Historia kept talking. He strained to focus on her light-hearted voice.

“When Dirk was a junior, he dislocated his shoulder bad in football practice. It was awful. He needed surgery because of the mass building up. That same week, Urklyn injured his knee again because he fell out of a fucking tree. Some stupid dare. Guy stuff,” She could hear the eye roll in her voice. “I’ve never seen my Dad so pissed off. Both of them had to get surgery the same day. A fucking nightmare. Four years apart but they act like twins.”

He hoped that the reason why she stopped wasn’t because of him. He bit his lip so hard to keep from howling in pain.

“So.” She started. “I think you might have a fracture,” Historia stated flippantly. “That would explain why the swelling hasn’t gone down.”

She did some weird trick with all her fingers pressing against his tendons. Eren bared his teeth, clutched the edge of the table— _ anything _ not to rip his hand away. “Great. Awesome.” Eren muttered into the table. “That’s  _ exactly  _ what I need right now.”

“I’m surprised you’re taking this well.” She marveled quietly, placing his arm down and set the Coca-Cola can back on his hand. Still cold. He almost sighed in relief. “Most guys would’ve cried. Dirk was a screamer. I could always hear him while I was in the waiting room.”

“Yeah, yeah. Guys are babies—I know how it goes.” He exhaled sharply, maneuvered his head so he could see her through parts in his hair. “Annie and Mikasa tell me all the time.  _ Try bleeding for a straight week almost every month _ , they say. Is it  _ really  _ as bad as labor pains, though?”

Historia raised a piqued brow. “You live with your mom and sister. You seem like a smart guy. You can figure it out.” Historia held the can in one hand and brushed some of his hair away from his forehead with the other. It was so tender, her eyes looking at him so softly. He kind of felt undeserving of it.

She poked his forehead. “What kind of wall was it?”

“A very hard wall.”

Historia rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

He sighed, his breath creating an imperfect oval fog on the dark wood. “I think it was brick. Honestly can’t remember. It was already bad before that.” Eren let out another breath, through his nose, wincing as Historia took the can off too soon and began to knead his hand again. He gritted his teeth and slammed his fist on the table. “ _ Fuck!  _ Who knew Floch had that hard of a face.”

“He’s an asshole—he deserved it.” She glanced down at him. “You need to see a doctor, Eren. This could get a lot worse.”

“ _ Yeah _ ,” He huffed into the table, his hair billowing like a fluttering curtain. “Just as soon I get ass-whooping of a lifetime from my mom when I get home.”

That was not what Historia wanted to hear.

Historia let his arm flop on the table. His wrist crashed on the edge, thankfully. “C’mon, dummy. Let’s go.”

Eren raised his head, watching in curiosity as Historia pushed her chair neatly into the desk and drifted across the room like some kind of mythical creature. “What?”

She indicated to the exit with a flick of her head. “Let’s get outta here. You need help. My father knows some people.”

“But Hange said—”

“I  _ know  _ what Hange said. I was  _ here _ .”

He didn’t know what to say. “I can’t get another detention, Historia.”

“Of course you can. And we probably will. But we’ll have a note. And my father can do something about this.”

“Let’s just—“

She groaned with her whole body, marching up to his table and laying her palms flat on it. “Would you quit being such a worry rat and follow me?”

He looked at her dumbly. “Where are we gonna go?”

She tugged on his good arm. “Just come  _ on! _ Jesus!”

Of course.

Eren could almost slap his forehead.

“What?” Historia inquired, peering over her shoulder as she crouched and unlatched the chain wrapped around the tire.

Of  _ course  _ the bike was hers.

And the thing was even more atrocious up close and personal. Why she bothered to clip it, he’d never know. Nobody in their right mind would take this…  _ thing _ . He could already hear Annie’s crow laugh when she found out.

Historia rolled the bike to the curb, dropping it on the asphalt. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been on a bike before.”

Eren scoffed, trailing behind her. “I’ve ridden them plenty.”

“’Kay.” She kicked the brake pedal down, batting her lashes at him. “So? What’s the problem?”

“Nothing!” He answered a tad defensive, and rubbed his neck, searching for the proper thing to say. “I guess I’m just… a little surprised you don’t have a car.”

Historia shrugged. “Too much money. Bikes are easier. Better for your legs too.”

That was true. And she had nice legs, the definition apparent even under those black leggings. And now that he was taking it all in—daisy patterns over a pale pink paint job, with the pom-pom trails rippling from the movement off the handles—and  _ her _ , under the cloudless blue sky...  _ Well. _

“It suits you." He blurted.

She stared at him, flabbergasted. “People say it’s childish.”

“It is.” Eren shrugged, rubbing the nape of his heated neck and looking away. “But... it fits you.”

Historia pouted. “Calling me childish,” She muttered, turning away, mindlessly messing with the handles.

“I think there’s a little kid still in everyone. Just harder to find in some.”

“Well. Thanks. I guess.” She hoisted herself up, planting her butt firmly on the seat, her cheeks a little pink. Eren noted it was a two-seater bike, the second seat in the center of the handlebars. Historia pursed her lips, deep in thought, eyes flickering to it. "Actually... I think you should do the mechanics while I steer from your lap."

He almost blanched. Historia looked serious about too, swinging her legs back over to the sidewalk, only further piling onto his shock. “What?” It came out more like a squeak.

“Well…” She started, averting her eyes for a split second. Historia indicated to him with a motion of her index finger. “Considering your hand’s all fucked up, I can’t exactly sit  _ here _ —” She pointed at the wide-open space between the handles. “—while you drive  _ and _ steer. And there’s no way you can sit on my lap. You’ll crush me.”

Eren wanted to argue that logic. But couldn’t. “Good point. But—”

“What?” Her lips tugged up into a sly smile, folding her arms. “Aww! Don’t tell me you’re too embarrassed to be seen with me or something?”

He shook his head softly. “That’s not it.”

“What’s the problem then?” She poked his shoulder with almost every word. “C’mon. Consider yourself lucky! Do you know how many people—namely  _ guys _ —would kill to have me sitting on their lap?”

Eren stayed silent, digging his Vans into a crack on the concrete, his good hand stuffed deep in his pocket.

“Oh.” She puffed, staring up at him incredulously. “Huh. Maybe you’re not so innocent after all.” Historia let it drop off, hopefully off a fucking cliff because Eren couldn’t believe he didn’t deny it and she wasn’t freaked out to know it.

She patted her seat. “C’mon, big boy. Sit.”

He breathed, steeling himself for the epic disaster to come, tugging the straps of his Eastpak tight on his shoulders. Historia stood back, gathering her hair and mending three sections into a messy braid. He circled the bike around, swinging his leg over, careful not to grip too tight to the bar. It took him a moment to find a comfortable position.

Historia plopped herself right on his lap with no preamble, knocking the wind out of him.

She smelled so nice–coconut butter and pretty things that only came around once in a lifetime. She tucked her braid in the collar of her white school shirt. Her dainty body molded against his so nicely.

Eren tried not to squirm, not sure where to put his hands. “You’re  _ sure  _ this is gonna work?”

“This is a horrible idea,” She confessed, leaning forward just a bit so she could secure a solid hold on the handlebars. “But do you have a better one?”

“Uh. We could take the bus. I’d pay.”

“Ew! Now  _ that’s  _ embarrassing. I’d never be caught dead on a bus."

“We could always… call someone? Aren't your friends still at practice?”

"Eren." She bit out, glaring over her shoulder. "The longer you wait, the worse it's gonna get."

Eren lifted his hands in defense. “Okay, okay! We’ll go with your idea. Uh…”

“Yes, you can put your hands on me.” He swallowed, touching her waist, holding her sides. “You’re sure that’s enough?”

He glared at the back of her perfectly shaped head, begrudgingly encircling his arms around her tiny waist, tucking his chin on her shoulder. Breathing her in. Nothing but the road that lay ahead of them for however many miles.

“You ready?”

Eren raised one foot to the pedal. Already the bike wobbled—not a good sign.

Always to get the last word in, he said, "This is a horrible idea, Historia!" and kicked off.

It took a lot of tries. A lot of miscommunication. Their balance was completely off. They fell like three times, Eren catching her each time, twice on his bad hand. By the third time, he could swear he could taste the blood. Historia kept putting too much pressure leaning forward. And when she sat fully back, it was a  _ little _ difficult to concentrate.

Neither of them gave up, though. Historia least of all. Way too stubborn.

They were down the block of the school by the time their frustration melted into laughter.  _ What else is there to do? _ They were stuck together now, probably would be stuck together again next Saturday.

After another set of fumbling, Eren finally constructed a pace that wasn't too fast; one Historia could finally manipulate and command. And once they established that rhythm, it was nothing but smooth sailing.

  
  



End file.
